


Cheeky, cheeky, avian

by Ash_Jove



Series: Land of Drabbles and Short Stories [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Escaped Experimentation Au, Established Relationship, Light-hearted makeouts, M/M, Mild Gore, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but good god tagging is fun, humanstuck AU, i swear its gonna be okay, no he didnt actually jack off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Jove/pseuds/Ash_Jove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of video games and a morning of ironic mourning. Hot and fluffy shenanigans, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheeky, cheeky, avian

**Author's Note:**

> i started with the idea of an au where davesprite had been raised and created at a research facility with the mixed dna where the concoction consisted of both crow and human.(if there's already an au for this i didn't know about it until now! ;v;)
> 
> so, that's a reason for the deformed limbs, wings, ability to fly, and ambidextrous vocal cords suited for both of his counterpart languages. other than that he just looks like regular dave, a blondie with shades and all.  
> but in this time he's living with john (and out of sight from authorities) after escaping the facility and going into hiding. i might write something to explain that but fuck it, I wanna write this.

"Fuckin' hell!"

The controller that had been chucked by a very apoplectic Egbert somehow managed to correct itself and catch the unsuspecting blonde just under his jaw. He rubbed the spot gingerly, deadpanning in accusation at his attacker. 

"That was a bug, that was a fucking bug, Dave!" 

"John," a groan slithered about in his tone, but annoyance was the last thing to bubble up in his veins. He was too busy being repeatedly shot from amusement by both the "bugs" that John claimed had been the reason for his downfall and Dave's merciless victory. "Last time I checked, the screen wasn't infested with an anarchy of six-legged arthropods that somehow broke laws of physics by fucking you up and caused you to continuously suck at this game. Did you see them, John? Because I didn't. Shit, we might have to take you to the therapist 'cause this is only the first signs of insanity; those gosh-darn illusions."

Cue a sigh of exasperation from the opposing end of the couch and a smirk from yours truly. "Dave, with you, even being real here then the laws of physics and logic doesn't even appeal to me anymore." He mutters, reaching over and giving one of the extra appendages folded just beside Dave's back a feeble tug as it was mentioned for emphasis, but Dave winced as he watched him end up pulling away a few inky black feathers. What got him was the fact he could quite literally feel each and every one depart from his skin -- but thankfully these few little tufts went away without pain.

They floated onto the empty space between both boys watching silently, and the one to break it was none other than the owner of the assault himself. "Uh... Didn't mean to pull them off." John admitted before cautiously brushing them off the seat.

Dave only shrugged dismissively, talons digging and unintentionally chipping away strips of black skin from the controller he was gripping. Despite not even being born directly into the vast community of humans, the second he was introduced to games it was like he found his soul-mate. 

Uh, co-soul-mate, if those ocean blue eyes in front of him had anything to say about it. 

Those, albeit fucking _gorgeous_ eyes made Dave worry about John and whenever his over-protective slash mother-hen mode would show its true colors by corrupting his actions and the game system would take a fucking stake to the heart and he meant a literal stake. Hearing the dying electronic clicks and whirrs were raw material for nightmares.

However that fortunately didn't happen, and instead Dave got controllers thrown at him instead whenever he went on the same winning streak for the fifteenth time. It wasn't his fault he was practically a natural at these games, but he internally suspected it had something to do with him easily able to adapt to the controls after learning. He wasn't sure what the standards were for how fast it would take for learning new control systems, but he felt he was a fast learner himself. Especially when comparing to John.

Perhaps it even had something to do with his primal instincts. Each jerk of his thumb or rapid pushing of a button was at prime speed and sent adrenaline rushing through his nerves and sparking the ends with energy each time he had a close call. Rare occurrences, but ooh those felt good. Sparky, sparky for sure, do like. He often got them from challenging pros, but when he lowered back to Egbert's level it felt best when John somehow almost got the drop on him and with a quick last-minute flick of the thumb he had counter-attacked and saved his ass, smiling contently as John would either grunt or groan.

As he fussed with rearranging the main menu -- being leading player one, he was required to, Dave fussed over his appearance. His shades had been blurred from his frenzied hands accidentally rubbing against the lenses when he attempted to protect them from the attack of a controller reigned upon him, and the crimson shirt that was drawn down just below his waist and faintly feathered elbows had been trapping undying heat, so he was quick to shimmy out of it and toss it on the floor among various junk strewn across the ground. 

'Enjoying the imagery of my bare torso yet? No, wait do not answer that. I will spare you the trouble of having a bunch of cakes thrown at you by the coy little lover of mine just beside me. Shit, who am I talking too?'

With delicate and lukewarm air cooling the now exposed and heated skin, Dave sighed quietly before leaning -- or more like dropping -- horizontally and dropping onto the couch with a grunt. Using his feet to push him farther toward the other end of the couch, he lifted his head until his cheeks slid against the fabric of shorts.

A sigh slipped between the Strider's lips, as he scooted up a bit more closely with his eyes shut in leisure.

 

The couch suddenly depressed near him slightly and Dave didn't have to quite notice until he saw it was the controller being set down, and a pair of hands suddenly touched his the top of his head and started tossing his hair around.

Content seeped into the blonde's relaxed posture as he felt blunt nails scratch against his scalp, silently grateful that humans weren't born with the steel-like claws that lashed out of the tips of his fingers. Dave could almost feel the slight smile that glowed just above him, as equally satisfied as he was. Ah, the dude could never stay angry at him for long and that was something Dave liked about him. Teenagers and their short fuses but this one was special. He didn't actually hold grudges.

"Does that mean you forgive me for beating you with the effort of lifting a pinkie finger?" 

Cue a harsh tug on one bundled clump of his hand and a disgruntled hiss from the punished blonde. 

"Lemme rephrase that," he muttered against John's thigh until he felt his head being tugged upward and it brought him to meet his gaze with a luminescent blue pair just above him.

As Dave shifted so his body so his neck wasn't so strained and twisted, he felt his head get lifted from its spot on John's lap, his grunt of confusion cut off instantly when a pair of lips rubbed against his own. "Whateffer."

Dave released a gasp that resulted in a choked sound escaping his parted lips until momentum sent his head rearing upward to latch onto John's again, half relying on the hands gripping his face to keep him up without straining his neck too much. He released after a moment, eyes closing to the warm throb beginning to develop in his heart and he moved up for another kiss again, and after a moment the same result ensued.

With the pattern in his mind clicking into motion Dave began bobbing his head up and down, movement slow and drawn out and the second he reconnected the kiss was the moment where Dave was taking time to at nip John's lips, robbing them of their sugary taste with a swipe of his tongue afterward, whether it be the bottom or top was selected at random before dropping back down. 

Each time he kept repeating the sweet motion, he could feel the edges of John's lips tightening, and after opening his eyes for a fleeting glance he noticed that the Egbert was fighting back a smile. Finishing the latest kiss Dave had planted on his lips, he fell back down into those hands with the slightest of smirks he received from going into contact with that alluring urge to smile. "What is it, John?"

"Dude," he said, a chuckle slipping past his lips and brushing cool air across Dave's face. "You're literally like your crow counterpart."

"How the hell'd you find out? I thought my plan to keep that a secret was faltering. blast." dave drawled. "but tell me, how is that so, Egbert?" he finished with a questioning purr.

"You're practically _pecking me_ on the lips, did you not realize that?"

"I know. I was just trying to follow bird stereotype customs, I guess." Dave bullshitted before quickly, he lifted his head up again and supposedly "pecked" John again on the edge of his lips for exaggeration, and the giggle he made was far more contagious than Dave could handle, forcing an airy chuckle out of him.

"But I know I should do it more often. You like them."

"You did it once in front of Jane and if you do it in front of anyone else I'll slaughter you." Dave just snorts. 

"The passion to let me experience things i never imagined of truly knows no bounds." he murmured, before sitting up promptly. John looked up at him in confusion, albeit sedated from fatigue Dave knew was there. Playing video games into ungodly hours was the night was obvious taxing on the poor human, and while Dave had slept into ungodly hours of the day he knew John didn't have the messed up internal sleep schedule he did.

The blonde frowned, before sprawling a hand on John's clothed chest and then leaning forward, lips nearly coming into contact again as John obliged to let his back hit the cushions where Dave then followed in suit before he briefly used his elbows to support his head and delve straight into another kiss, this time, more keen on collecting every little fragment of saccharine sweetness those lips had to offer that began to bake under the combined heat from their shared breath. 

John kissed him back, a hand that had long since shed and departed hesitation tracing the slant in Dave's moving jaw when they moved to work in harmony with the pair of lips under him before those fingers began to grip more tightly in reflex as the blonde began pushing for more. His head tilted delicately into John's palm as his hand rose to cup the dip in his cheekbones, the slow kiss they shared subsiding as John focused more on murmuring incoherently and Dave took an interest into running his tongue along the line where his lips ended, trailing down to his neck and already leaving John to become a shuddering mess under him. He exhaled leisurely at the warm tickle of Dave's tongue, flaring down his skin in all it's heat and glory before it was left to fade out and congealed to cool lines from where saliva had been.

John's eyes closed as the atmosphere of light warmth sudden felt sweltering when Dave reached the protrusion of his collarbone and began to suck on the skin, letting his tongue run over spot before his tightened lips retracted with a satisfying pop. Amber eyes swerved down to it and blue eyes attempted to follow before closing again. The most gorgeous crimson and purple blush had fused in a swirl of color there, a solo advocacy of his place when it comes to John's relationships. He leaned down and kissed another spot just a little east of his neck, with full intentions of leaving a duplicate of his previous marks there.

Dave knew full well what red splotches on the neck while watching Saturday morning cartoons were. at least, he was promised his version was the accurate one from John's stories which consisted of him joking about a lady with a thick gray scarf around her neck that sagged down as constant as a depressed teenagers' raging hormones whenever she let go from pulling it back up. Laughing at how it was like she wasn't even trying to hide it.

The question had been asked about "it" and was answered. The suggestion had been bold and daring but accepted. An experimental sloppy makeout session ensued.

 

When Jade came over later that day, though, Dave's ego was officially under fucking siege from her glares that obviously spelled out that she was hellbent on being the cause of his excruciating demise. 

Which was why he stopped. Anymore of Egbert's consistent flow of relatives surprise-visiting the complex would be thoroughly disappointed in the evidence department for Jade's reasoning. Your ship is wrecked, Harley. Doom doom doom, John-Dave is dead but his ghost will pursue it's reputation right under your nose.

 

Dave lifted his face back up a content smile latched onto his features as John inclined his head when the male suddenly leaned back until he slid out of the warming expanse of John's lower half. "Go to sleep Egbert," he chirped enthusiastically with a wave of his hand. "Dunno what porno gutter your head was stuck in, but I'll be your savior and get you out by pointing out the logical that it's way too fucking late for or this. You wouldn't last a second, and that'd be--"

Suddenly Dave's face is getting intimate with a pillow. Da frickity frag in the shack of hell?

 

As the product peeled off his face by the condescending grasps of gravity Dave watched as John swings his feet over the side of the couch and before he knows it Egbert has his back to him and is hastily looming off. "I is confused?" Dave quipped as John turned around with a shrug and one finger pointing up at a physically non-existent reason. "Okay. I gotta shower." Dave's bullshit meter blew it's whistles and levels are rising like a _god._ There it goes, surpassing Mount Everest and is now engaging the troposphere. Somebody get a fucking camera. 

Dave bit his lip as thoughts began concocting in his mind after the drop of realization sent a seed of amusement growing in the pit of his stomach. Symptoms include a knee-jerk twitch, the fucking _ghastly_ urge to smile or laugh and tension in the abdomen. Dave let all of them loose after a full second of dealing with them and giving up.

John looked as startled as though he had just sprouted wings. Well, that already happened but hush now, that's a story for another day.

"What?" He said, after the steady stream of laughter cut short in its stock of amusement and slowed to a halt. Dave was legitimately inclined to cry at this sad attempt of obscuring facts. "Go ahead," he drawled after he was positive the faltering in his voice had ceased. "When you're done nursing your man-boner come find me and I'll tuck your sleep-deprived carcass to bed, sound good?" If incredulous looks could slaughter, Dave's innards would already be sprawled about and feeding a pack of feral dogs. Or rather, he enjoys calling them barkbeasts more often. Nobody is surprised.

"Are you really gonna pull the trump card of me being a late teen instantly implies I'm all gross and horny from all the unfamiliar changes and hormones raging through my body?" He scoffs, his expression hardening with dubious accusation. "Because, for the record I came home dirty but you insisted on dragging me into Super Smash Bros. shit that you knew you'd win for the next four hours. We finished and you're telling me to go to bed like you're my dad, so what do you expect me to do?"

"Not give a shit." Dave replied simply. His gaze had lowered briefly to watch the tips of his claws grind together and blunt themselves while letting flakes of material drizzle down simultaneously. He had watched with silent fascination as John protested, only looking up when he stopped. "It's like, way too late to shower dude."

John sighs. "Jake took me out today for a 'run'." He explained. "You have no idea how much I wanted to shower when I got home." Dave only shrugs in response, But a snicker slips through his lips and lifts the edges of his mouth as it passes. John's face hardens, only to turn away as Dave flips him a dismissive wave. Sure thing, Egbert. Dave'll buy the story you've cooked up but he'll keep his own notions to himself. Conflict solved.

When the black-haired male disappears, Dave then focuses on shutting down the game, ushering his shirt on once more and making a trip to the kitchen to fetch a cup of bedtime liquids. When he flips on the light in the once darkened room, he emerges from the hallway with sights set on the fridge. Ah, he had had so many plans for it. He wanted to keep a variety of the kitchen knives hidden here and there within the secluded expanse of the fridge, much to John's detest. It would feel so hilarious to be able to say: "That's our fridge. I wouldn't open the thing unless you wanna get stabbed." and just watch the craziest look of skepticism flash over a strangers' face and feel their sense of security dwindle a little.

He opened it leisurely, taking out a bottle of Motts filled the cup to the brim with the ethereal liquid he consumed on a daily basis. What could he say, he had an unhealthy infatuation with apples and relative products.

He idly wiggled the cup around before shutting off the light as he exited the kitchen, hallway, and finally until he was brought back to the couch. He didn't often sleep on it, but it felt like the best choice available in his plethora of preferences to sleep that switched constantly when the mood called for it. Fortunately, the butt-prints left were still there to keep him warm.

He leaned into the corner of the arm rest and the back cushions of the couch, his elbow being supported by the 'rest as he struggled to swing his legs atop and let his wings spill over the couch to give him more room to lean back. As Dave squirmed to settle into the position, his toe stumbled across the TV remote and sent it swishing closer to him.

Dave eyed the plastic remote as it gave off an aura of temptation, gave him the idea that he was free to add a little spice to his dish of chillaxing on the couch until sleep finally took its place. He meekly ceased his fighting with a shrug since after a brief introspection it felt like drifting off wouldn't be something that would come too easily anyways.

He plucked the remote from its place on the couch, easing the appealing urge and putting it to use by smashing the pad of his thumb on the ON button before it retreated lower to the input and change it from the game system to the TV cable. A family feud channel popped up almost instantly, and after two seconds Dave sent the remote scattering to the opposite end of the couch. Surprisingly, he enjoyed the little show for its subtle informational value. Some of the populations' opinions and customs popped up there, and it was just nice to see people try and either fail or succeed at finding the proper answers. 

He set his sights on the screen with idle interest, soaking in its vivid visuals until he lost count of how much time has passed. As it did, though simply staring at people guessing Dave closed his eyes during a commercial break, sinking lower into the couch and pushing his feet until he was forced to re-adjust his wings and then fold and fit them against the back cushion. 

In fact, it didn't take long for the position he was in to be re-labeled as lying down inside of sitting up with his neck the only thing being supported by none other than the arm-rest. His head was tilted to face the screen, but he paid more attention to his thoughts rather than whatever played on there. They had stirred up in a haste, demanding his attention until he gave it to him and let his body physically drift into a haze. 

Reality became a blur and away from his awareness, the subconscious thoughts he was nursing becoming the one active thing that kept him afloat as he drifted in the sea of comatose. 

When a hole finally blew in his floaties and he plunged underneath the surface, Dave was suddenly jerked out of it by a red-alert in his physical condition. Something or more likely somebody was shifting on the couch.

Reluctant but eager to crack open an eye, Dave did so and was immediately met with darkness and muffled sounds, but in the shine of the TV's bright lights he spotted a familiar silhouette. 

John.

The dorky kid has slipped in the small space his legs couldn't reach, seeming content with watching the program Dave had previously relished in. He cooed absentmindedly, and John's head almost instantly turned to him, curious to find what the cause of the only source of noise in the apartment other than the softly-spoken sounds the television produced. Meeting his gaze in a veil of fatigue, Dave wetted his lips with his tongue and focused on forming coherent words. "'Sup, John. I can only assume you're done jacking off, so are you ready to plunge ass-first into the depths of sleep now?"

John evidently avoids Dave's commentary and hits the question with an answer launched like an arrow aimed for a bulls' eye. The Strider snorts in amusement at this, but it had been ignored purposefully if John could figure out just why he did. "Yeah," Was the simple answer given to him, voice dripping with lethargy and John suddenly leaned his weight toward Dave until he tilted to the side enough for gravity to send him crashing down like a stack of cards that were rudely blown down by some random asshole who obviously didn't give jackshit about the person who had happily tried to tend to their little knick-knack hobbies.

The metaphorical stack of cards is heavy as hell, though Dave came to realize when John had collided with his chest and sent the air and a muted grunt blowing out of his nostrils. Sucking in a breath, he lowered his gaze and watched John struggle to fit the top of his head snugly under his chin. Dave felt too tired to complain or protest, but either option became extremely unappealing when John finally stopped squirming for comfort and became a pleasing weight on him.

Just the feeling of another resting atop made Dave still, focusing on the warmth transferring from one another until the soap and cologne smelling weight on top of him became something he clung onto to sink and drown him in the waters of sleep.


End file.
